Page 43 of Dead & Breakfast
Arthur bent his head to murmur back, “Might as well finish the job. We’re halfway there…”
“Whoa-oh, chicken on a bear!” Sal exclaimed to the tune of “Livin’ on a Prayer,” a crescent-moon grin splitting his face.
“Huh?” Nora’s eyebrows furrowed as she stared at them in half horror, half confusion.
“Those definitely aren’t the lyrics,” Arthur huffed before he could stop himself. But correcting Sal’s recollection of a Bon Jovi song wasn’t why they were there. “Answer me this, Ms.Anderson. If you and Ms.Clark are so innocent, then why are you both lying to us?”
Nora stiffened at his use of her surname, then shook her head. “I know you mean well, but I…The security officer is waiting for you. You’d best be on your way. Will the sheriff be joining you?”
“I doubt it.” Sal guffawed, a sound that felt almost as out of place as two vampires in Trident Falls. “Last we saw him, he was trying to get into a storage shed at the park. I think he thought it was an office where he could view the footage.”
“Wonder if someone should tell him any camera the city owns is monitored from here.”
“Why spoil the joy of discovering it on his own?” Salvatore asked with a wicked twinkle in his eye before they ducked out to make their way downstairs.
Arthur’s shoulders slumped as the door clicked behind them. “You didn’t have to do that, you know,” he said.
“Do what? Save you from irreconcilably insulting our one and only paying guest?”
This whole thing was such a mess, and it seemed there’d be no way through it without ruffling feathers. He hadn’t missed that Nora avoided answering his question. Still, that didn’t make her guilty of anything…Arthur shook himself, hoping the motion might jostle all the thoughts spinning through his head into some sort of recognizable order. He’d gathered plenty of clues by now; surely some of them added up to something significant. If only he could find the connections.
“There, there, Arthur, my love. We’ll find a way to fix this. Perhaps an I’m-so-very-sorry-we-accused-you-of-murder brunch?” Sal ran a hand along Arthur’s shoulders. “Food heals all wounds.”
“I don’t know about that…”
“I know what you’re going to say, but once I saved a man from bleeding out after a stab wound with only a lamb chop and an onion.”
Arthur blinked at him, unsure what Salvatore could possibly expect him to say after such a response. “That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Arthur said quietly, a finger pressed thoughtfully to his temple.
“Alas, it was. I’m sorry to report, the man died later of an infection. The doctor chastised me most vigorously for using raw meat to stop the bleeding, but what else was I supposed to use? My shirtwas white and covered in hand-stitched lace appliqué! The doctor tried to tell me that death is permanent, but it’s not nearly as permanent as bloodstains.”
“Focus, Salvatore. I meant what you said about brunch.”
“I do love a brunch.”
“We should invite Quinn as well.”
“Of course! We trap them with the promise of waffles, then bam!” Salvatore clapped his hands in triumph.
Arthur couldn’t help but grin. There truly was a harmony in working together with the man who always seemed to know what he was thinking even before Arthur did himself. “We get them to confess—”
“Their feelings for each other!”
“To the murder!”
They both pivoted to look at each other with pinched expressions.
“Wait, what?” they said in unison.
“Clearly they are hiding long-suffering crushes on each other,” Salvatore said, throwing his hands in the air as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“I thought this was about solving the case, but you want to play matchmaker?”
Salvatore sighed dreamily. “It’ll be likeThe Parent Trap!”
“But they’re not our parents…and we’re not twins…”
“Shh.” Salvatore pressed a finger to Arthur’s lips. “Call it an interrogation if you must, but don’t spoil my fun. Now, I believe the security office is awaiting us. Let’s see what the recording shows.”
